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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663737">whalesong and bone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dishonored AU, Edelbert if you squint, Gen, Hresvelg Sibling!Lysithea, Plague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:22:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663737</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Doom has settled over the city of Enbarr. A rat plague runs rampant in the street, and Emperor Edelgard can do little to stop it. Hubert, her bodyguard, does everything he can to keep her safe, but his best is not enough. Now, with Edelgard dead and her younger sister Lysithea taken by the same men who killed her, he's forced to assist a shadowy group in his quest to save Lysithea and avenge Emperor Edelgard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edelgard von Hresvelg &amp; Hubert von Vestra, Lysithea von Ordelia &amp; Hubert von Vestra, My Unit | Byleth &amp; Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Returning Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>here it is! this fic is an AU based off the video game Dishonored, a game that's near and dear to my heart. I've been toying with this AU on and off for months, and I'm so excited that it's finally far enough along to share with others. i'm a couple chapters ahead in my writing already, an will be updating every week! i'm so so excited, thank you so much for reading &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    <em>Hubert,</em></p><p>
  <em>    If only there was someone else I trusted to send so that you could remain near. But there is no one else, and the spymaster was right to insist that I send you. The plague has taken so many, and we must find a cure. When you are near, my heart is at peace.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>    Lysithea and I will count the days until you return. Hurry home, and bring good news.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>    -Edelgard</em>
</p><p>Hubert has been away from home for a long time. He would like to claim that he’s immune to earthly emotions such as homesickness, but that’s far from the truth. As his ship pulls into Enbarr and he steps onto the waiting electric carriage, the only thing he feels is something akin to excitement. The rat plague still rages on - he can see it in the looks in his mens’ eyes - but he is home, and tonight he will have dinner with Edelgard and Lysithea, and all will be as it should.</p><p>    If only the letter from Brigid he carries held good news. Queen Petra had been well-spoken and kind, but regretfully informed him that there was no hope of a cure in Brigid. He returns now to Edelgard with a heavy heart, steadfastly ignoring the way the guards’ faces fall when they see that his expression is even more grim than usual.</p><p>    Ahead of him, there’s at least one spot of light amidst all the fatigue and helplessness. Lysithea waits on the bridge, the petulant look on her face as familiar as the skyline of Enbarr. She’s wearing a little white tunic that Hubert doesn’t recognize, complete with a cravat and a pair of tights underneath her shorts. Her black hair provides a shocking contrast to her outfit, handing loosely down to the small of her back. Has she gotten taller?</p><p>    “Edelgard said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” It sounds like an accusation, but Hubert knows that she is secretly pleased to see him.</p><p>    “The winds were favorable.” Hubert doesn’t approach her, instead waits for her to come to him. The Emperor’s little sister is almost a wild animal - reaching his hand out is a sure way to get bitten.</p><p>    “Hmph.” Lysithea tosses her hair over her shoulder with a noise of disgust. At ten years old, she’s often conceited and a rude, but Hubert would not have her any other way. Besides, she’s a child - she’ll grow out of it in time.</p><p>    He arches an eyebrow. “Well? Is that all, princess?”</p><p>    She looks up at him from under her eyelashes, the barest hint of a smile on her face. There is nothing Lysithea loves more than to be treated like an adult, and she adores it when Hubert treats her with the same respect and severity that he grants her elder sister. “Well,” she says, “now that you mention it, one guard did promise to play hide and seek with me.”</p><p>    “Did he not deliver?” Hubert scowls, over exaggerating the gesture slightly. “Shall I have him executed, my lady?”</p><p>    Lysithea sniffs. “Not right now, I guess. You can take his place instead.”</p><p>    Hubert bows gravely. “Of course.”</p><p>    Lysithea clasps her hands together. “Excellent!” She turns and runs off down the stairs to the stone riverbank underneath the bridge, and Hubert follows with an amused smirk.</p><p>    Once they’re below the bridge, she whirls around, facing him with bright, expectant eyes. “Okay! I’m going to count, and you hide.”</p><p>    Right then. Standard fare. Lysithea squeezes her eyes shut and starts counting. Hubert rushes off to crouch behind a crate. Lysithea, try as she might to pretend otherwise, is not very good at hide and seek. He should have little trouble staying out of her way here.</p><p>    Although, to be fair, playing hide and seek with a trained assassin and bodyguard is hardly a formula for success. Perhaps as an adult she will be especially gifted at searching for others. </p><p>    Her count ends soon enough. Although he can’t see her, her footsteps echo off the stone of their play area. “Hubert! I’m going to find you!” Lysithea’s footsteps slow before long though, and she lets out a beleaguered sigh. “Alright, fine. I give up!”</p><p>    Hubert stands and steps out from behind the crate. “You’ll need to work harder than that if you want to win,” he teases.</p><p>    “Hmph.” She crosses her arms. “Someday I’ll win a game of hide and seek. Just you wait.”</p><p>    “Of course, princess.” Hubert ruffles Lysithea’s hair just to watch her scowl at him, then follows her back up the steps and towards the gazebo where Edelgard awaits.</p><p>    This trip is the longest he’s been apart from her since he turned sixteen and was first sent to be her Royal Protector. She’s his best friend and his Emperor, and he would lay down his life for her in a second.</p><p>    There is no future for him that does not include her.</p><p>    Lysithea runs up the steps ahead of him, while Hubert stops to have a quiet word with Lady Rhea, Edelgard’s royal spymaster. She’s heading down the steps, leaving after a discussion - or more likely, after yet another argument.</p><p>    “Hubert.” Lady Rhea bows stiffly, a gesture Hubert returns in kind. He has never liked the woman - neither he nor Edelgard have - but she is good at her job, and someday they will have a new spymaster. “You’re back early.”</p><p>    Hubert laughs hollowly. “Come now, Spymaster. There is no need to sound so pleased.”</p><p>    “Well? Is the news good? It’s the question on everyone’s lips.”</p><p>    Hubert rather dislikes the curve of Rhea’s smile. She’s been spymaster since before Edelgard was Emperor, and although there had once been a time where she and Hubert had been cordial with each other, those days are long gone. Now, the only thing that keeps Hubert from snapping and killing her is the fact that they both have Lady Edelgard’s best interests at heart.</p><p>    “No,” Hubert says after a long moment has passed. “I have a letter with further details for her majesty.” There’s a slight snub in his words, one that evidently doesn’t go unnoticed from the way in which Rhea’s lip subtly curls. </p><p>    “Of course,” he replies. Lady Rhea continues walking, guards trailing after her.</p><p>    Hubert turns and continues up to the gazebo, arriving just as Lysithea runs up to her elder sister, pressing herself against her side. Edelgard’s lips quirk upward and she turns towards Hubert, an open, delighted expression on her face. Her long brown hair is piled high on top of her head today. She only wears it this way when she’s particularly stressed.</p><p>    Hubert longs for the day when Edelgard is completely and utterly happy, and her hair hangs loose around her shoulders. </p><p>    “You’re early!”</p><p>    As always, Hubert drops to one knee, bending his head in deference. She scoffs, but reaches out and rests a hand on his head anyways. “You know such behavior is unnecessary.”</p><p>    Hubert doesn’t stand until she removes her hand, and only then does he allow himself the closest thing that he can approximate to a smile. “I’m well aware.”</p><p>    She smiles back at him, and everything is as it should be. There aren’t many people around, and so he lets himself step half an inch closer to her and drink in the lines of her face. “You look tired,” he says, soft and only for her ears.</p><p>    Edelgard waves a hand. “It’s nothing. None of our citizens sleep well these days; it seems only fair that I shouldn’t either.” </p><p>    Hubert’s faint smile vanishes. “Lady Edelgard-”</p><p>    “No,” she says, an air of finality in her voice. “Hubert, you just arrived home. Give me the letter from Brigid.”</p><p>    Hubert bows his head ever so slightly. “Of course, Lady Edelgard.” He reaches into his inside coat pocket and places the letter into Edelgard’s waiting palm. It’s lighter than he thinks it should be, what with the grave news that he knows it contains.</p><p>    Edelgard tears the letter open and reads it, then sighs and reads it again. She opens her hand, letting it fall to the ground. It drifts slowly downwards, falling open onto the floor. </p><p>Lysithea frowns, looking up at her elder sister. “What is it?”</p><p>Edelgard lets out a heavy, bone deep sigh. “Nothing surprising. No one in Brigid has ever heard of anything close to our rat plague. Their Queen offered to send some food and other supplies, but other than that they want no involvement with us.”</p><p>“What should our next move be?”</p><p>Edelgard walks over to the balcony’s edge, looking out with a forlorn expression on her face. “We’ll have to pray that Linhardt comes up with something soon. He’s been working nonstop.” Her jaw tightens, and a strand of her hair falls out of her bun, hugging the curve of her jaw.</p><p>In the months to come, that one detail is what sticks in Hubert’s mind the most. He remembers seeing it and wishing he’d done something. His fingers had itched at his side, about to reach out and fix her hair for her, much in the way that he would have as a child.</p><p>Instead, Edelgard’s mouth falls open in shock and she whirls around. “Where are the guards?”</p><p>He’s a fool. He should have never let himself get distracted by such a silly thing as joy. Hubert turns, narrowing his eyes as he scans the buildings around them. Just as Edelgard had said, they are alone. Normally, a few moments of peace and quiet are a bliss unlike any other, but not now, not like this.</p><p>Something’s wrong. Hubert knows it even before he sees a man on the rooftop across from them. He draws his sword, stepping forward as Edelgard grabs Lysithea and shoves her behind them both. The Emperor pulls out the knife she keeps up her sleeve at all times. “What’s going on?” There’s no fear in Lady Edelgard’s voice, even here.</p><p>“We’re under attack,” Hubert growls. “Stay behind me.”</p><p>What he isn’t expecting is for a swirl of blue mist to surround the man, and for him to be gone one moment and then suddenly appear in the gazebo with them. Now that he’s closer, Hubert realizes that the man may very well not be a man at all. He’s wearing a think, heavy coat, with a hood pulled up around his face and a gas mask on. The light reflects off the glass-covered eye sockets as the man pulls out a sword. </p><p>It’s no matter. Teleportation or not, Hubert has killed dozens of men for Lady Edelgard, and will kill dozens more. He pulls his pistol out of its holster, then points it squarely at the man’s head. He fires, but that same mist surrounds the man, and he’s on the gazebo’s far side before Hubert can blink.</p><p>Another flash, and another man appears. No matter. Hubert will strike them all down. He shoots one square in the chest, and then slashes at the next one who approaches with his sword. Three more go down before they stop coming, and he lets out a shaky exhale once they’re gone.</p><p>“By the Goddess,” Edelgard murmurs. “Thank you. It’s fortunate you came home early; I fear what would have happened had you not been here.” There’s barely contained rage in her voice, faint enough that Hubert doubts that anyone but him would be able to detect it. Still, he knows what it means: someone is going to pay for what almost happened.</p><p>“We need to get out of here,” Hubert says. “There could be more.”</p><p>Hubert reaches for Lysithea as they head down the steps, fleeing for Enbarr Tower, where they’ll be safe. He keeps a watchful eye on the rooftops, holding Lysithea’s small hand tight in his own.</p><p>The movement on the rooftops this time is even more subtle than before, but he knows enough to trust his gut, and he pushes Lystithea away to level his pistol at the coming assassins once more.</p><p>This time, though, his limbs don’t move. The world goes grey as the men appear on the gazebo, as if their arrival seeped everything of all color. Hubert struggles against it, trying desperately to move his arm or his leg or just something, <em>anything</em>, but instead he watches a mnn approach Edelgard, her face frozen in shock. She’s between him and Lysithea, and he shoves her to the side to grab the girl. </p><p>The man is wearing a slightly different uniform than the rest. He isn’t wearing a mask, and so Hubert has a full view of his cold, empty expression. His eyes are a steely grey-blue, and his fair blonde hair is tied in a low ponytail, framing his face gently. His appearance is far too delicate for the cruel, unseeing glance he tosses Hubert’s way. He strides through the frozen, greyed out world like it’s nothing, then pulls out his sword and spins it carelessly in his hand.</p><p>Right before he plunges the blade into Edelgard’s stomach, he glances Hubert’s way, as though rubbing salt into the wound.</p><p>The world goes from perfectly still to too fast to process in an instant. Edelgard crumples to the ground. Lysithea screams, and then everything goes silent. The men are gone as fast as they’d come, Lysithea with them. Hubert runs to Edelgard’s side, falling to his knees.</p><p>Her breathing is shallow, the blood from the wound on her stomach pouring out far too quickly for Hubert’s hands to hold in. His hands are slick with it, and her breath rattles in her chest as he presses useless hands to her stomach. “You can’t die,” he snaps. “You can’t. Lady Edelgard, I-”</p><p>“Find Lysithea.” Edelgard clutches his sleeve tight in her hand, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “You’re the only one who’ll know what to do.”</p><p>“I will,” he cries, his voice cracking. “I will, El, I swear. On everything that I have.”</p><p>Edelgard’s hand loosens, before falling slowly away and to the ground. Whatever sort of heart he had falls with her, and he gathers her into his arms, holding her tight and trying to remember how to cry.</p><p>“Lady Edelgard!” Rhea cries, running up out of seemingly nowhere. “By the Goddess, what have you done? And where is young Lady Lysithea? Guards, arrest this man! He’s killed the Empress!”</p><p>Hubert doesn’t move, except to clutch Edelgard’s body closer. There’s nothing to say, no words that could possibly heal the wound that’s been carved into his soul. He cries out with the guards grab his arms, scrabbling uselessly against their iron weight as he attempts to get back to Edelgard and steal the last few moments of warmth left in her body.</p><p>“Take him to Coldridge Prison,” Rhea calls. Already, she sounds callous as she peers down at Edelgard’s corpse. Her hair has come out of its bun, and Hubert would cut out his own tongue for a moment to go and fix it. She wouldn’t want the others to see her with her hair down. He squirms uselessly in the guards’ arms, and doesn’t stop even as handcuffs click around his wrists. They drag him away like a dog, and he doesn’t take his eyes off the spot where her body would be until she’s long out of sight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dishonored</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is late! sorry! it will definitely happen again fdksjhj</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Hubert has tortured and been tortured before. He is no stranger to suffering, but in the past six months he’s learned a new brand of it. There’s a point of no return, where a human body has experienced so much anguish without the respite of death that its learn to accept it. It stops feeling like pain, and turns into numbness.</p><p>    For Hubert, that point comes quickly. There is nothing they can do that’s more terrible than he’s already witnessed.</p><p>    Although they try. They certainly try.</p><p>    “Just sign the paperwork,” Rhea says. She’s Lord Regent now, in charge of an Empire that she got by ruining his life. She sounds so tired. Hubert remembered what it was to be tired, once. “You’re going to be executed tomorrow. Don’t you want to go to the Goddess with a clean soul?”</p><p>    Hubert hasn’t had a clean soul since the first time he killed for another. He closes his eyes and waits for the burst of pain that he knows is to come. When Rhea slaps him, it barely registers. He has lost parts of him to this prison that will never return, but they will not take his loyalty to Edelgard.</p><p>    Rhea sighs. “Do as you will.”</p><p>Her footsteps echo through the stone chambers as she leaves, and Hubert is alone with the torturer once more. At first, the man tried to initiate some kind of reaction in him, but he’s long since given up. Now, it’s strictly business. The sharp scrape of metal sounds, and then the sizzling of flames. This will be unpleasant, surely, but tomorrow Hubert will be dead, a failure to his lady and her mission. There’s nothing that could hurt more than that.</p><p>Although, the burn from the fire poker is a close contender.  </p><p>    -</p><p>    “Food, pig.” The guard that slides food under the slit in his door is new. “Make sure you eat it all. There’s a special treat for you this time.”</p><p>    Hubert scowls. He doesn’t move until the guard is gone, and then makes his way cautiously across his cell. He eats with as much desperation as always, although he has no idea why. He’s going to be dead tomorrow. Some last meal this is.</p><p>    Or, maybe not?</p><p>    There’s a key under the crust of his bread, small but unmistakable. Hubert’s breath catches. He swallows and picks it up, hands shaking. There’s a note underneath it, but even before he reads it, he knows what all of this means:</p><p>    He’s going to get out of here.</p><p>    The note is short and simple, written with a typewriter that had clearly just had fresh ink put into it.</p><p>    <em>Hubert,</em></p><p>
  <em>    Who we are is irrelevant right now. Just know that we have the upmost faith in you. Once out of your cell, head to the Interrogation Room. There’s an explosive hidden there. Take it and plant it on the outer door. Dive into the water when it goes off and make a run for the sewers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>    There’s a weapon hidden outside your cell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>    Good luck. We need you alive and well for what’s to come.</em>
</p><p>There’s no signature. Hubert stands, trembling slightly. His breath is shallow and his hands shake, but he’s going to have to steady them soon enough. He’ll need to be quiet as the grave if he wants to make it out of here alive.</p><p>    After all, no one has ever broken out of Coldridge Prison before. </p><p>    -</p><p>    Hubert hasn’t killed anyone in six months. Still, his muscle memory returns as soon as he sees the first guard. It’s child’s play to slit his throat with the aid of his newly acquired sword, and when his body hits the ground Hubert feels nothing at all. A prisoner in another cell laughs, says: “Good riddance,” and spits on the ground.</p><p>    Hubert finds that he agrees.</p><p>    Coldridge Prison is an unforgiving place, and there is no sense of kinship here. He’s not so self-righteous that he thinks himself the only man who’s here unjustly, and he knows that some of these men have done very little wrong other than look at a guard the wrong way.</p><p>    But more free prisoners means more people out in the open, which means a higher chance of him being seen and caught. He promised Lady Edelgard he’d find Lysithea. Nothing else matters.</p><p>    He walks past the other cells and makes his way over to the Interrogation Room to find the explosive hidden there. It’s a route he knows well, and he has little trouble slipping past the guards.</p><p>    Inside, the room looks just as it has every time he’s been there before. The fire poker still glows orange from where its been haphazardly set across a metal tray. Hubert’s cheek aches, and he averts his eyes from the chair in the room’s center. He’s seen it enough; he doesn’t need to linger.</p><p>    Instead, he makes his way over to where he’s never been, to the large wooden desk on the dias behind the chair. The stairs up to the office area are worn down by countless boots that have come before his, and the lamp on top of it sputters weakly, shedding a dim light. </p><p>    Hubert pauses behind the desk, looking out over the room. He could be a king, a warden, an overseer.</p><p>    He averts his gaze. He is nothing. He’s barely even alive. </p><p>    An audiograph sits on the desk. A tan punchcard sticks out of the small metal machine, and after a moment’s hesitation Hubert flips the switch to turn it on. The mechanism whirs to life, the punch card moves up and down as the gears in the machine spin. Lady Rhea’s voice is loud and hollow as it echoes throughout the room.</p><p>    “If he signs the confession, good. If not, we’ll make do. Hubert’s early arrival put a wrinkle in our plans, but it should be easy enough to smooth it back out. After all, the assassination of an Emperor is no trival thing.”</p><p>    The recording clicks off. Hubert swallows around the pit of rage within him. He hates her, with a burning ferocity that he thought he would never be able to feel. He’s hated many people - enemies of Lady Edelgard, men and women who sought to use her - but never has the hatred run this deep.</p><p>    He inhales, trembling from anger. There’s a vial of plague elixir on the desk and he swipes it, before heading to the back. There, on a small, almost forgotten table, sits the explosive he’s here for. It’s clearly hastily constructed. Wires stick out of it haphazardly, and the metal holding it together is crude and poorly fashioned. He has no doubt that it will explode when necessary, though. Whoever is the one giving him the means for escape is no fool, and there is no sense in doing a thing such as this in half measures. </p><p>    Hubert pockets the explosive, readjusts his grip on his sword, and slips back out the door. </p><p>    -</p><p>    He tries not to kill when he can. Hubert has never minded death - he’s lived his life surrounded by it, after all. Many have fallen at his hands, and none of them linger in his memory. The people he kills are for Lady Edelgard, or they are in self defense, and neither of those causes are prone to keeping him up at night.</p><p>    These men know nothing of Lady Edelgard’s true murderer. They merely think they are doing their duty. If he had really killed her, he would deserve every cruel look and unkind word they’ve tossed his way.</p><p>    Still, his blade hungers, and he remembers the terrible, cold nights he’s spent in the prison. He avoids guards when he can, but his blade finds a few, despite his best intentions. Lady Edelgard would forgive his faults. She always has.</p><p>    Hubert creeps across the prison yard, light as a shadow. There’s no indication that anyone knows of his escape, and the guards chat quietly to themselves. He knows little about how the outside world has changed since he was thrown in here, but he imagines it can’t be good. They were barely staving off the rat plague as it was. </p><p>    It’s child’s play to avoid the guards and creep up the stairs at the far side of the yard, and after there’s only one guard standing between him and the large, metal door to the outside. He slits the guard’s throat and lets him fall to the ground, then makes his way to the door. His blood pounds in his ears, and he attaches the explosive onto the door, pressing the detonate button. His hands tremble slightly; unlike him, but then again, he hasn’t been outside the prison’s walls in months. He’s allowed some trepidation, he thinks.</p><p>    The explosive starts ticking and Hubert turns and sprints across the chamber, crouching behind a barrier. Guards will come running as soon as they hear the explosion, but they’ll be too late. He’ll be gone.</p><p>    The explosion rocks the world around him, the ground trembling from the force. His ears ring and his head swims, but Hubert stands and bolts towards the crude hole in the wall. </p><p>    It’s been so long since he’s known the touch of the sun. He barely has a moment to marvel at it before he’s diving into the river water below, crossbow bolts and bullets whizzing around him. He swims deep, relishing the crisp caress of the water. It’s the cleanest he’s felt in six months, and he’s loathe to climb out of it and crawl into the sewers, scurrying away like a rat. </p><p>    Still, safety lies through the twisting tunnels of the sewer system, and so he hauls himself up and into them without a moment’s pause.</p><p>    It’s damp and dark down here. He can hear the scurrying of rat feet, and the water’s rancid smell hangs around him. Hubert’s thin clothing from the prison does little to keep him warm, and he finds himself shivering as he walks.</p><p>Before long, he comes across a barred metal door, blocking access to a tunnel. There’s bars along the tunnel as well, arching over it as if to protect it. Hubert squints. The gap between the ceiling and the bars is small, but he thinks he can squeeze through. He climbs up and tucks himself inside, moving carefully forward towards the other end of the gated tunnel.</p><p>    Voices echo below him, and Hubert flinches. There are two guards directly beneath him, presumably out looking for him. It’s fortunate that door was locked; he would’ve walked right into them. </p><p>    “-like a ghost.”</p><p>    “Oh come off it.” The man who answers is gruff and unimpressed. “Hubert isn’t that impressive.”</p><p>    “You saw him train, didn’t you? He’s a monster.”</p><p>    Blood still taints Hubert’s blade. He hasn’t had time to clean it off. He pauses, and contemplates if he could fit his blade through the bars. There’d be nothing to gain by killing them, of course, and he doesn’t need to. They’re not even in his way. He continues on, creeping slowly forward with the men as his companion.</p><p>    He sees the rats before they do. He almost says something, purely out of habit. That was his job before, after all.</p><p>    Now, though, he adjusts his grip on his sword and watches the rats rush towards the two men. He’s seen this before; he should look away.</p><p>    He doesn’t.</p><p>    The rats devour the men in minutes. Hubert looks on as the flesh is stripped from their bones, their screams echoing through the sewers. After, they barely look like men. Blood and gristle is all that’s left.</p><p>    It doesn’t bother him. Months ago, it would have. He’d have led Lady Edelgard away and swallowed around the bile in his throat. Now, he feels nothing at all.</p><p>    He continues his slow crawl over the tunnel, and when he lands at the other end, he doesn’t look back.</p><p>-</p><p>Hubert emerges from the sewers, blinking at the sun’s harsh glare. He raises a hand, flinching away from the light. He’s done it. He’s out, and he’s free.</p><p>It takes him a moment to see the woman in front of him, and he steps back, lip curling like that of a caged animal. </p><p>“By the Goddess.” The woman in front of him is wearing a long teal coat and has short, dark hair. She’s holding a cigarette loosely in one hand, and it falls to the ground when they make eye contact, the smoke drifting up in a narrow plume. “I thought this was a fool’s gambit.”</p><p>Hubert’s lip curls. “Am I to believe you’re the one who arranged my escape?”</p><p>“I’m just the ferryman.” She spits on the ground. “Shamir.” She narrows her eyes, then steps into the small boat behind her. “My employers are expecting you.”</p><p>Hubert has never been so utterly devoid of choices. He’s still dripping with river water and stinks like the sewers, but for the first time in six month, when he climbs into the small riverboat behind Shamir, he remembers what hope feels like.</p><p>-</p><p>The Serpent’s Pub does not look like a place for a conspiracy. It looks like a shithole that Edelgard would make him stop at despite his protests, inviting grave risk to her personal safety. Shamir wanders away as soon as they land, directing him to go inside and meet with Lord Arundel and Lord von Aegir.</p><p>Hubert shifts. The pub was beautiful, once, but now it’s dingy and rundown. The stained glass windows are clouded with dirt, rendering the reds and blues of the glass muddied. There’s a fine layer of dirt on everything here. The loudspeaker system spits out an announcement about his treacherous escape from Coldridge Prison, and promises a reward for any news leading to his capture.</p><p>Treason. He’s committed treason, now. He wouldn’t blame them if they killed him as soon as he stepped inside. After a moment’s pause, and a glance towards the dying sunlight, Hubert stalks around the perimeter. It’s child’s play to climb up onto a crate and then pull himself up onto a large vent running along the building’s exterior. He creeps upwards, stopping on the second floor to peer in a window.</p><p>Vibrant green eyes meet his. “Oh!” </p><p>Hubert recoils. The young man looking back at him is young, fifteen or sixteen at the most. He has pale grey hair and freckles, and wide green eyes. </p><p>“You must be him. Hubert von Vestra.”</p><p>Hubert nods. His tongue sits in his mouth like a dead thing.</p><p>“I’m Ashe! I work here. Or, well, I did. I suppose I still do, but now it’s far more conspiratorial, and I don’t go home at night.”</p><p>Hubert has no clue what to say to this man. </p><p>“Would you like to come in?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Ashe steps back, and Hubert ducks inside. The room is large, and dominated by four sets of bunk beds with identical deep red blankets laid over them. There’s a large cupboard on one wall and an open door to the hallway, but little else. Servants’ quarters, then.</p><p>“I apologize for disrupting you,” Hubert says. His hand still holds fast to his sword. He hasn’t loosened his grip on it since he first picked it up. He’s contemplating never putting it away.</p><p>“It’s fine!” Ashe smiles, too sunny and too bright. Hubert’s skin crawls. “The others are downstairs. They’ll want to speak with you.”</p><p>Hubert nods, his eyes darting back over to the window. He was supposed to sneak in and creep up on them, to make sure they weren’t talking about how they were going to murder him.</p><p>Ashe’s smile dims. “They’re not going to hurt you. They want you to hurt people for them.”</p><p>Hubert has hurt many people. He’s sure he won’t mind a few more. “If you’re lying to me, I will kill them all, and then you.”</p><p>Ashe laughs. “I know.”</p><p>What a strange man. Lysithea would like him. Hubert scowls and pushes past Ashe. The hallway is the same as every slightly shitty pub he’s ever been in. The baseboard is cracked and stained, and the floral wallpaper above it is peeling. It’s a disgrace, but then again, everything in the rat plague is. He finds the stairs and heads down them, sword still tight in his hand.</p><p>If the two men he’s supposed to meet with are surprised to see him coming down the stairs instead of through the front door, they do an admirable job hiding it.</p><p>“Hubert!”</p><p>The taller of the two greets him with a broad smile on his face, although it feels insincere. He has long, dark brown hair and pale eyes. He’s wearing a military uniform with a red stripe running diagonally across it. His companion is one Hubert recognizes - he doesn’t know Lord von Aegir well, but he’s spoken with his son before. Edelgard had found him amusing. Hubert had found him a nuisance. </p><p>The taller man bows, short and stiff. A military man through and through then. A general, perhaps. “I am Volhard von Arundel. I can’t believe you’re here… truly. It’s incredible that you’ve made it out.”</p><p>Lord von Aegir does not bow. He sniffs and stands a little straighter, regarding Hubert with an unimpressed look. “Indeed. I doubted you would get here in one piece.”</p><p>Hubert does not reply.</p><p>“We know you didn’t kill her, of course,” Arundel continues. He turns and steps towards the bar, getting himself a glass of ale with practiced ease.</p><p>It’s a calculated move, to turn his back on Hubert, but it puts him at ease nonetheless. If they truly thought him a murderer, they would never look away from him. He stands a little straighter. “No.”</p><p>“We’re a small group,” Lord von Aegir says. His very voice is pompous; Hubert didn’t think the man had the spine for this sort of thing. “I am unsure if you remember me. I’m Lord von Aegir; we’ve met before, in happier times. Arundel is our organizer, and I provide the monetary support.”</p><p>Arundel nods. “Hanneman, our scientist, can create all kinds of amazing technology for you, and the servants are in on the secret as well. This place would burn to the ground without Ashe and Leonie. You’ve met Shamir, of course, and Mercedes is around here somewhere. Once we rescue Lady Lysithea, she’ll be her tutor.”</p><p>Tutor. They really do intend to save her then. A wave of relief goes through Hubert; he’s not just an assassin. He’s going to rescue her. He’s going to fulfill his dying words to Edelgard.</p><p>“I see,” he says.</p><p>“They’ll be time for all of that tomorrow,” Arundel says. “You’ll meet them all, in due time. But you must be tired, and I imagine you would appreciate a night’s rest in a secure location more than introductions. Your room is in the attic, on the top floor. You won’t be disturbed there.”</p><p>Hubert nods. “Until morning.”</p><p>Arundel raises his glass, and von Aegir smiles tightly. “Until morning.”</p><p>Hubert makes his way up the stairs with his sword still raised. Nothing sound the same here, and the quiet seems all-encompassing. He’s exhausted (he’s been exhausted for six months), but he still doesn’t feel safe. </p><p>His room, when he stumbles into it, is more storage than a bedroom. There’s a small bed stuffed in the corner, with a bedside table on one side and a desk on the other. There’s a stack of blank paper and a pen on his desk, and a lamp burning low with whale oil.</p><p>Hubert walks the perimeter, checks that the doors lock, and counts how many steps it takes for him to get across the room. The door facing the stairs is next to a window with no glass, and a small metal walkway leads to a tower a few hundred feet away. He’ll investigate tomorrow, when he’s less tired, when there’s less blood on his hands.</p><p>When he finally does lay down in his new bed, the mattress is too soft and the quiet too comfortable. He can’t get comfortable, and he tosses and turns for a long while before he finally falls asleep, arms wrapped securely around his sword.</p><p>    -</p><p>    Like everyone in the Empire, Hubert knows what the Void is. He swears to it, and ignores its black-eyed, hungry goddess as much as possible. There’s long been rumors that he worships the Fell Star. Edelgard didn’t allow anyone to speak of such things near her, but he knows that they persisted in quiet. It doesn’t help that Edelgard and High Overseer Seteth have never gotten along, and that Hubert speaks little and wears nothing but dark colors.</p><p>    All this to say, when he opens his eyes in another world, he knows in an instant where he is. His bed is still there, but the dingy hardwood floor surrounding it vanishes a few feet out into a brilliant pale blue sky. Chunks of rock float through the air, and a low keening sound reverberates through his skull.</p><p>    The whale he sees in the distance is monstrous, twice as large as the Empire’s largest ship. Its fins are long, slanted to the sides and a ghastly white in colour. The filaments sprouting from its lower jaw sway with the motion of its body, carefree as it swims through an infinite sky. Unlike the whales he's used to seeing, it's alive, no scars or blood dotting its seemingly porcelain flesh. It takes no notice of him, swimming further into the distance.</p><p>    Hubert climbs out of bed. The world swirls around him, the air perfectly still. Islands float through the sky, crumbling stone buildings of long-lost civilizations on them.</p><p>    Edelgard would love it here.</p><p>    Hubert steps forward, following the wood floor of his new bedroom until it turns to dirt and stone. The figure at the end of the path is expected, but his heart rate ticks up nonetheless.</p><p>    “I know you,” he says.</p><p>    The woman is floating slightly, just above the ground. Her hair is a dark blue, hanging down around her shoulders in a ragged shroud. Her eyes are a glassy black, with no pupils or whites to them. The sleeves of her coat are large and billow around her gently, her hair stirred by an invisible breeze. When she tips her head to the side, the motion is distinctly alien, her movement a little too fluid to be that of a human. </p><p>    “The Fell Star,” he says. The name is heavy on his tongue, but he knows it to be true: this is what a god looks like.  It’s the same as when he first saw Edelgard, and knew without words that she was royalty. “The Church wants you dead.”</p><p>    “The Church wants many things.” Her voice is everywhere, surrounding him on all sides. It’s low and haunting, and her mouth does not move when she speaks. </p><p>    Hubert stares at her. The Church wants him dead too, High Overseer Rhea and her goons are certainly hunting for him even at this moment. Edelgard always detested their power, the way that they influenced her citizens and went against her direct orders. </p><p>    “What do you want?”</p><p>    Hubert wishes he had a knife.</p><p>    Byleth spreads her hands. “If you know who I am, then you know what this is.” She reaches for him, palm facing up. Hubert knows better than to surrender himself to the Void like this. The Fell Star is not the kind of person one should trust without question. Six months ago, Hubert would have hesitated. Now, though, there’s a shiny burn mark under his eye and terrible scars on his back, and if she kills him that will be almost a mercy.</p><p>He extends his hand.</p><p>The flash of pain that goes through him is the most visceral his pain has felt in months. He cries out, the pain spreading white-hot through him, burning him from the inside out. When it fades, there’s a mark tattooed into the flesh of his left hand. It’s deep and worn, and looks as though it’s always been there. He’d recognize it anywhere: the Crest of Flames, the Mark of a Heretic.</p><p>It’s a good thing he’s already a traitor in the Lord Regent’s eyes.</p><p>Hubert traces the mark on his hand, looking up at Byleth with wondrous eyes. The faintest hint of a smile crosses Byleth’s face, and then she disappears in a swirl of black.</p><p>She reappears at another island, across an empty expanse. A pause, and then she’s gone again. Hubert stares after her, hand still tingling from the mark. He makes a fist, and the mark glows blue. His blood sings with it, the thrum of power like nothing he’s ever felt. His body knows what to do, even if he doesn’t understand it himself. He extends his hand and an odd tugging sensation fills him, and then he’s on the other island, appearing in a mist of blue.</p><p>Hubert’s stomach turns, and he pauses for a moment to catch his breath. This is… certainly not what he was expecting. It’s a useful tool, he can’t deny that. He straightens, dusts off his thin jacket that the Loyalists had given him, and smiles. It’s been six months since he’s been surprised, and he finds that he likes the feeling. He walks to the edge of the platform and lets the magic rush through him again. If he looks, he can just see a shimmering blue circle where he’ll be teleported. It’s faint, and he has to strain his eyes, but when he closes his fist he ends up exactly where he thought it would be.
    He’s close enough to the Fell Star to see her poof to another, further island, and he scrambles after her, determined to catch up.</p><p>    -</p><p>    He loses track of he Fell Star as soon as he sees the scene before him. Here, amidst the floating islands and eerie cries of whales, is a scene laid out just for him. It’s the Gazebo, just as it was the last time he saw it. Edelgard is on the ground, blood pooling around her and staining her fine, beautiful hair. She’s a scene from a painting, face porcelain clear and eyes staring up at him in shock, the pale purple of them still there, despite it all. The letter he delivered is on the ground next to her, spotless.</p><p>     YOU CANNOT SAVE HER it reads, over and over and over again. Hubert already knows; his mind or the Void or the Fell Star herself is just reminding him. Still, he crouches down next to the corpse and brushes her hair back from her face, whispers an apology that has been on his lips for the last six months.</p><p>    It’s meaningless. No apology will make up for his failure.</p><p>    Hubert stands and makes his way to the edge of the island. There’s no moving back. Edelgard is dead, and if he ever loved her, he’ll save Lysithea.</p><p>    -</p><p>    When he catches up to her, the Fell Star’s eyes are alight with something akin to excitement. The shrine behind her is crude, wooden sticks assembled into something resembling a triangular platform. A heart sits on the top, warm red as though it were just plucked from living flesh. “Another gift,” she says.</p><p>    The Fell Star floats next to it, a soft smile playing on her permanently ageless face. Hubert does not trust her. There is no life behind those eyes, and her only reason for helping him is for her own amusement and morbid curiosity, nothing more.</p><p>    Still, this is her realm, and he does as she wants and takes the heart. This is not the first time that Hubert has held a human heart in his hands, nor will it be the last. But it is the first time a heart has ever beat steadily in his hands, thumping gently in time with his own. It glows a pale gold, and a clear window at its center shows a whirring clockwork within.</p><p>Hubert looks up at Byleth with a curled lip. “What have you given me?”</p><p>    Byleth tips her head to the side, inhuman and incomprehensible. “I told you. A gift.” Her mouth doesn’t move. Hubert thinks about grabbing her by the jaw and wrenching her mouth open to see if there’s a tongue in there at all, or if someone cut it out. If they didn’t perhaps he will amend that, to see if it will stop her from speaking to him. He doesn’t know if he can hurt a god, but he would not mind finding out.</p><p>    “Hubert?” The heart in his hands beats again, and Hubert clutches it tighter, looking down upon it.</p><p>    “Lady Edelgard.” Her name is the only thing he knows how to say. He might never speak any other words again.</p><p>    “Even as an echo of what I was, it is good to know you are there.” Hubert closes his eyes, trying to find a place inside of himself to hide away from the sadness that threatens to overwhelm him. Someone like him isn’t supposed to feel this much sadness, and yet.</p><p>    He is never going to let her heart out of his sight. If he dies, his last act will be to do what he could not before and shield this last part of her from harm. “I will find those who did this to you and rip their throats out with my teeth. I will drown them in their own blood. I will… I will,” Hubert swallows. “I will make them pay.”</p><p>    When Hubert looks back up at Byleth, she’s floating a few inches off the ground, her arms crossed and her mint green hair a cloud around her. “I will make them pay,” he says again, tucking the heart into the inside pocket of his coat. He can feel its warmth through his clothing, and he imagines for a brief, beautiful moment that it’s Edelgard, safe and alive against all odds.</p><p>    He wishes it had been him. He would give anything for it to have been him. Edelgard would not have wanted her heart ripped from her chest and laid bare in his hands, but he would gladly have torn himself limb from limb for her.</p><p>    It’s unfair, the way these things fall.</p><p>    “Thank you,” he says softly, looking up to Byleth.</p><p>    For just a moment, there’s a terrible, wistful expression on her face. She nods, then that shimmering blue light surrounds him once more. The same gut-wrenching feeling as when he’d first used the mark overtakes him, and then he’s awake, and of the world once more.</p><p>    Edelgard’s heart, however, thuds steadily in his breast pocket, warm and familiar. The mark on his hand glows gently with forbidden magic. Hubert takes the Heart out of his pocket and cradles it, more gently than he has ever held anything before. “I’m sorry.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come talk to me on twitter @edelgardlesbian!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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